


This Wasn't in the Grimoire

by PaperAnn



Series: PaperAnn's Kink Bingo 2017 Works [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Universe, Confessions, Danger Kink, Dean Hates Witches, Dean is a Little Shit, Elemental Magic, Fluff and Smut, Gunplay, Hunter Dean, M/M, Role-Playing Game, Sex Magic, Shameless Smut, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2017, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Veterinarian Castiel, Warlock Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: Castiel is a powerful, white magic warlock who gives the Winchesters information to stop a rogue coven in town.  Dean’s a hunter with a chip on his shoulder who hates witches, all witches, and doesn’t like loose ends.  While Castiel meets a confrontation with annoyance, Dean counters with a gun loaded with witch-killing bullets.The warlock’s very first brush with danger doesn’t arousefear.It arouses...something else.





	This Wasn't in the Grimoire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2017  
> Square Filled: Gunplay
> 
> [GlitchedWings](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/) is my amazing beta and partner in crime for this challenge, and I couldn't love her more!
> 
> **Ann's Notes:** Now that I've gotten over my fear of posting short oneshots (it really was an ordeal, guys. IDK why, but it really was!) I can estimate that I'll be able to get these out once a week or two :) Which is exciting, because they're quick, easy and I hopefully fun reads! When I post, I'm making it as possible as I can to rotate ships, so if you're not into Sabriel, there will be a Destiel fic next week, or the other way around :) There will also be some _new pairings_ that are squares on my Bingo card, so be ready for some different ships I haven't written before too!
> 
> I know these don't have dramatic, deep plotlines and they're mostly pure smut, but I've tried my best to make all of them unique and I'd love feedback! Muah! xoxo

With three grocery bags balanced in Castiel’s arms, the request of, “Aren’t you going to let me in?” was vexing.

For so many reasons.

This man was a hunter.  He and his partner were drawn in by a local coven—one Castiel had instructed, _multiple times,_ to curb their magic.  They only had one woman with natural talent and she flew under the radar because the others wouldn’t know the difference between a locator spell and a demonic summoning ritual if it was torn out of their grimoires for them!

The singular reason they’d been successful was the woman working from the shadows to assist, but they were becoming greedy.  They begun sacrificial blood work, and as soon as you started the slaughter—no matter how small the life you took—you plummeted down the rabbit hole.

And then came the hunters.

Two, to be specific.

Magic had been in Castiel’s blood for (most likely) his entire lineage.  There was a natural aura emanating from him, one he couldn’t shake even with a barrier spell.  It was inevitable; if the hunters came for the coven, they would eventually find him, too.  
  
Castiel was a light magic practitioner, no more, no less.  He was also a local veterinarian, and the only way his witchcraft manifested was in his herb and vegetable garden…and the occasional ‘miracle’ at the veterinary clinic.  Call him a bleeding heart.

He couldn’t help it, the relationships people had with their pets…it was beautiful and all-consuming.  They were family.  If he could prevent just an iota of pain, give them a few more years with their companion...Castiel would do it in a heartbeat.  Just as long as he didn’t create enough miracles to be a widespread name.

He _needed_ to stay hidden, he couldn’t be identified as a warlock.  Except, during the hunt for the coven, Castiel had attracted just enough praise to land the hunters in FBI garb in front of his door.

They had a… conversation.    
  
One was sympathetic to his cause, once he gave them the entire life story of the coven members, but the other continued looking him up and down as though _he_ was the criminal.  Or something else.  He wasn’t appeased, he wasn’t ready to dismiss Castiel, yet the taller hunter had dragged the other one away.

Apparently, right now was the second part of _this one’s_ investigation.  Or personal vendetta.

While Castiel was loaded to the brim with groceries and grinding his teeth.  “You may come in if you help open and shut the door.  Fair trade?”

“Fair trade,” he confirmed, and did exactly as he was told.

“I’m assuming you need something more, Detective?” he’d play along, “Or what _should_ I be calling you?”  Castiel prompted the question with a raised brow as he was followed swiftly, and he went about unloading the groceries into his cabinet and refrigerator.

“Name’s Dean,” the hunter replied, and pulled out gun as he crossed his arms, “And yeah.  I’d say I need a little something from you.”

_Wonderful_ —Castiel thought—an alpha male, needing to show off his manly gun to promote his fragile masculinity.  Of course, it didn’t bother the warlock whatsoever, he continued about his business even while the hunter tapped his foot impatiently.

Castiel didn’t say anything until he was finished, and then he turned around with clasped hands and a smile.  “Now.  What is it that I can do for you?”

Apparently, Dean did not like to be forced to wait.  
  
He charged, full-speed-ahead, with a dangerous glare and that annoying gun.  “You may have fooled Sam, but there’s no way you’re as squeaky clean as you say.  Sure, your info on the coven was legit, but what if it was all about taking out the competition?  I don’t trust witches.”

“And what competition would I have to take the reins on?” he asked, voice dull knowing it would get under his skin.  Castiel was annoyed and he couldn’t hold back.  “Book club?  Perhaps a spinning class?  I don’t even know what magic they were working precisely, merely that I could feel it happening and there were dead animals.  Now, as a _veterinarian_ , you can see why that bothered me.”

Just for a moment, Dean’s face fell because obviously, logic would win out.  And if there was one thing Cas was, it was logical.

Bu it appeared that Dean was a loose canon, because the next words out of his mouth were, “You’re playing it really calm and cool, ain’t ya?  But what you don’t know is, this gun?  It’s filled with _witch-killing_ bullets.  It’s not something you can swat away.  I know damn well you’re powerful, those girls knew it too.  So you better start over again.  With the truth this time.”

Oh.

The actual feel of _danger_?  Fascinating.    
  
Castiel was experiencing it for the first time in his entire existence.  He was warded from bad luck, constantly protected by charms and hex bags, his parents worked deals with the Fates as his forefathers did when he was a child, and his ancestral magic bloodline was so strong there next to nothing that threatened him.  

This was… _enthralling_.  

Even though he rationally knew there was no reason for Dean to make good on the threat, the proposition was riveting.

Should he play along, string the hunter in the other direction and see just how far he played it?  Or—

“Castiel!  Did you not understand what I said?” Dean snapped.

“I understood.”  He couldn’t hold back the smile, “And it’s an amazing ultimatum.  I don’t know which way I should act, to be honest.”

“Are you not taking me seriously?!” Dean rushed right up in his person space and pressed the gun to Cas’ temple, “I told you, witches, warlocks, all of you are liars and—” his words trickled off like a weaning stream, “Are you…”

He hadn’t pulled away yet, because up this close and watching, Castiel had no doubt he could read him.  His breath was coming out a little harder, but it wasn’t for the sake of fear.    
  
No, it was the strangest arousal.  A burst of lust that he’d discovered at the most tactless, reckless time, with a wild card of a hunter.  But that made it so much more enticing.  Castiel’s eyes were flickering between Dean’s incredulous, beautiful green ones and his lips.  He could feel the cool barrel of the steel, hah, the only thing that could possibly take him down, wielded by such a beautiful person.

Suddenly, Dean blushed furiously and all but dropped the gun, staggering backwards and fumbling with the words, “Uh, I…uh.  May have come off a little strong but does that actually, like, turn you on?”  He backtracked, flustered and unsure what he was doing—so he went with, “ _Shit_ , you’re right.  Why would you be setting the others up?  I just have a stick up my ass from this entire case and this stupid demon bitch helping my brother.  I…”  
  
With his entire energy and posture transformed, Dean tried again, “When you found out they were witch-killing bullets, why did that get to you?”

“I’m truly sorry about your situation.  Demons…they can never be trusted.  They’ve been carved from within the depth of Hell itself and you have every right to be upset.”  Then, with a wicked smirk, Castiel chased after Dean and said, “But that wouldn’t be a very good interrogation if you simply…asked me,” he glanced down at the gun, hanging limply at Dean’s side.

Dean’s jaw dropped open and he slowly realized, “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you…”

It took him a second to get into character, Castiel watched him go from the previously baffled Dean to ‘Bad Cop’ right before his eyes.  The first thing he did was gesture with his gun, “We need to have a talk.  Go sit down.”

“All right, Detective,” Cas tried to keep in character, but the fact there _was_ a certain amount of role play was already doing things to him.  Even more than before, if that were possible.  “Is this alright?”  He asked the question because he needed to spread out, proudly showing off the tent of his pants, cock hard and pushing valiantly against the fabric.

Almost breaking, Dean nipped his lip and replied, “That’s fine,” as he sat down.  With his arm perfectly aligned with the seat's armrest and the weapon at his fingertips, it was aimed at Castiel to keep him in line.  The squeeze of _this_ trigger would actually pierce his flesh, not be deflected as any other firearm.

“This is an order,” Dean’s voice was pitched low and seductive, it was thrilling and Cas held his breath.  “Tell me why you changed when you found out about the bullets.  Tell me what turns you on about it?  Hell,” he snorted, now personally invested, “Tell me about everything that turns you on.”

Castiel tried to keep his voice from faltering, because he wanted Dean who was wielding that power so goddamn much, and he wanted him now!  But this was a game, and he wanted to savor the cat and mouse part, the danger of it all, just as badly.  Staring directly into those intense green eyes, Castiel took a breath.    
  
He paused before evenly explaining, “My lineage is powerful.  Exceedingly powerful, and you’d know that if you’d have done your homework.  Normal weaponry doesn’t make me blink.  I can heal myself instantly if someone managed to catch me off guard.  I’ve never, ever, truly been vulnerable.  Until now.  You and that gun?  Both turn me on beyond measure.”

Dean didn’t shiver, he full-body shook.  “And what should we do with you?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel was being honest.  “You did say you hated warlocks.  Even though I’m a mere light magic practitioner and occasionally heal a sick dog.  You could,” he leaned forward, licking his lips as he stared Dean down with wanton lust, “put me in my place.  _If_ you wished to.”

Dean jumped up from the chair, gun at the ready and gestured with a growled, “Bedroom.  Show me where your bedroom is.”

He nodded his confirmation and turned to lead him up the stairs.  Yes, Castiel did indeed add slightly more swing to his steps, making sure this hunter got the best view of his ass as they ascended.  Especially since, you know, Dean was actively trying to kill him fifteen minutes ago.  He heard Dean curse to himself, and muffle it with a cough, and Castiel felt a sense of victory that his job had succeeded.

Once they reached the bedroom, Cas turned around slowly and couldn’t help but ask, “What turns you on, Dean?  I think I deserve some kind of answer.”

It took a second, but eventually he admitted, “You.  Like this.  Damn, did I get a surprise coming here tonight.”  He raised the gun, back under the guise and instructed, “Undress.  Now.”

Castiel hesitated.  Bot because he was uncomfortable, mind you, but because he wanted to push boundaries and see what Dean would do when Cas didn’t follow the direct command.  The response happened in the show of the safety being flicked off.  Well then.  Dean looked quite serious about getting his way, and Castiel was now _achingly_ hard.

It wasn’t quite a strip show, because he lacked the finesse—but it was most definitely a tease because of the sluggish pace.  Dean didn’t complain once.  He eagerly took in every new expanse of flawless naked skin, raking his eyes over Cas’ body was zeal, looking hungrier and hungrier by the second.

When Castiel was completely undressed, Dean closed the distance between them completely.  He raised the gun and said, “Kiss it good night.  We’ve got better things to do.  Unless, you decide to be a bad, bad boy.”

With his mouth agape, Cas reached out to cup Dean’s cheek, glancing to where he held the firearm at eye level.  And he did as Dean asked.  Castiel pressed his lips against the unforgiving, cold metal of the gun, Dean praising, “So good, Cas,” as he set it in the nightstand drawer.  “I hope you’re not too disappointed it’s only me now,” he purred, trying to get his hands on every inch of bare skin.

“Not at all, Dean,” he promised with conviction in his voice, then turned the tables—because now that Dean was without the gun?  Castiel was in charge, and it wasn’t changing anytime soon.  He hoped Dean knew what he was in for.  “Why the hell haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Too busy seducing you,” he teased, cupping Cas’ ass cheeks and hauling their hips together.

Now, the warlock was getting a very clear idea about who Dean was, how he did things, and how he was going to handle him.  It was going to be very, _very_ enjoyable.  With a half-second of a grin, Castiel fanned out his fingers and swirled them into a fist.  All Dean’s clothes dropped (in one piece) to the floor, and he yelped.

“Y-you can’t just—!”

Dean was swiftly stopped mid-sentence, as their (now naked) cocks rutted together, gliding wet with dripping precum as Castiel asked, “Is there a problem?  Mm, I figured it’d be easier to help you out so we could both have this,” he hummed.  “So wet, I had no idea you wanted me this badly.  You certainly fooled me.”

Finally—finally, their lips collided and it was a moment of yearning, beautiful connection.  It was something that could be considered an apology of sorts.  And Castiel would take it, the way the hunter (who was hunting him, while they were both completely getting off by holding Castiel at gunpoint) was telling a story, was showing this meaning, he _couldn’t_ have anticipated.

After Castiel tugged them both down to the bed and landed on top (where he would stay, thank you), Dean needed to say, “I did.  Want you.  I really, really fucking did.  Like…from our first interview.  When we got your number, I was going to ask you to go out and have a drink with me.  Hope one thing led to another…”

With rapt interest, Castiel listened on, spreading kisses along the hunter's chest, teasing his nipples into hardness.  To Cas’ delight, Dean immensely enjoyed that, writhing into the sensation to the point it made him trip over his words, and momentarily sputter out.

“Y-yeah… I hoped that we’d kinda end up here,” Dean confessed.  “Then Sammy told me you were a warlock.  I was too busy checking you out.  I was too busy fantasizing, I didn’t even look for any of the signs.  I was fucking _stupid_ , I hated myself for it, and then… I hated you in turn.  But that never meant that I stopped wanting you.  That's why I came here tonight.  T-to prove you were the bad guy and—”

“Blank slate,” Castiel decided, once and for all.  “One thing led to another, we _are_ here.  This is where we begin.  Okay?”

Dean’s back arched with a gasp, Cas sucking the head of his cock into his mouth and he’d take that as a yes.  He smiled, loving the way the hunter so openly responded, the way he was so sensitive and unforgiving in his reactions—it was breathtaking.  At first, the warlock thought he’d be a difficult one to break (when he fantasized in his mind) because of his heightened sense of masculinity.  But that wasn’t true at all.

It was a now-proven misconception, because Dean was squirming and begging on three of Castiel’s fingers.  He was delighted to be wrong about this downright erotic hunter.

It appeared Dean didn’t seem to hate magic anymore.  Since Cas was using elemental magic to wet his fingers in place of lube.    
  
To be honest—Castiel didn’t do this very much.

He didn’t have many gorgeous, hostile hunters knocking down his door, making threats on his life then ending up in his bed.  But this one… oh, he wished that he wasn’t merely passing through town.  He liked Dean, very, very much—especially underneath him, belly glistening with oozing precum, face painted red from overwhelming need fit to burst, and his muscles flexing as he fucked himself the best he could against Cas’ fingers.

“Cas, holy hell, I need you—” Dean pleaded, reaching out and grabbing the back of his neck, surging upward for a ravenous kiss.  With a shaky breath, he urged, “You got me all worked up, ‘m on a hair-trigger.  Please, please fuck me?”

Castiel playfully licked inside his mouth, dragging his fingers against Dean’s prostate and sending him into a fit of hysterics.  The way he moved was captivating, but this hunter himself was equally mesmerizing.  The anti-possession tattoo, the slew of scars that covered his entire body: he was truly a work of art.

“Cas!”  

The shout tore him out of his reverie and a smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth.  Because for as much as Dean had been in control earlier with his gun, now he was completely at Castiel’s mercy with the back-up of magic, something he hadn't even used yet.  The power he held over Dean, not merely in the form of his vast and formidable craft, but sexual prowess as Dean whimpered helpless underneath him, yes, _those_ tables had turned.

He abruptly pulled his fingers from the snug heat of Dean’s body, and hovered above.  Giving him the illusion of control, he asked, “How would you like it, Dean?  You’re so desperate for it, how do you want me to fuck you?”

The hunter was fighting desperately to catch his breath, as a fierce look of determination sunk into his features.  He legs kicked up and wrapped around Castiel’s waist, knocking him off balance and pitching him forward.

He had to move fast to brace himself, and ended up nearly nose to nose with Dean, who was impishly grinning and rutting their cocks together.

“Just like this,” Dean ordered.  “Already gotta taste for that mouth of yours.  Sink into me, and when you’re balls deep, kiss the hell out of me.”

“How oddly romantic,” Cas chuckled dryly, but truth be told he was so goddamn starved for this.

He’d been holding back, trying to keep up the farce of complete composure, but underneath the still waters he was spiraling.  Dean probably couldn’t see it, because he was too caught up in being stretched wide open, but the precum drooling from Castiel’s cock was enough to lube himself up.  God, he was trying so damn hard to keep himself together, but the levee was going to break.

This obsession, his thirst and overwhelming desire to take, to have, to do with this man as he pleased—

Castiel roughly spread Dean’s legs, his ankles unlocking from where they’d been wrapped around Cas’ back.  The hunter’s inhale was visibly puffing up his chest, eyes wide in excitement as the warlock lined his dick up with Dean’s loose and puckered hole, already pleading to be fucked.  

Cas’ eyes couldn’t leave the sight as he pushed inside, watching his cock disappear, being swallowed whole by the intense heat and gripping pulse.  Dean’s moan and demands for more were lovely background music as Cas roughly grabbed his hips, and right before he was fully sheathed, took those last couple inches to _slam_ their bodies flush.

It punched a cried out, “Fuck—!” from Dean, whose entire body launched up off the mattress in a surprise—in what Cas expected to be a mixture of physicality and feelings.  He tried to hide his laughter, because maybe this was a little hint at revenge for barging through his door without an invitation.  Maybe this was for the hoops he’d been made to jump through, and now Dean wasn’t just being teased—he was at Castiel’s complete and utter mercy.

He didn’t bother taking it slow; he knew the hunter was much more experienced and Castiel didn’t have to be particularly gentle.  Although, he planned on making it the best the hunter had ever had.  After the initial impact, he didn’t give Dean enough time to regain his footing; he started to roll his hips, feeling the natural magic radiating from his body.  He began with shallow thrusts in and out, then as they grew longer—as Dean began taking more of Castiel’s cock—he snapped his hips with more force.

Dean reached out, even though he was fighting for words, he tried (and failed) because they were quite literally being fucked from his chest.  Castiel’s dick was much larger than the fingers he’d used to prepare him with, and Dean was reeling as he tried to relax, yet the warlock was already brushing his sweet spot, and the look on Castiel’s face made his jaw drop.

He assumed it was because he’d never wanted someone this bad in his life, on a carnal level.  Cas could only assume Dean could feel the magic pulsing from him, reaching out in this way he… _couldn’t_ control.  Someone managed to break through his stone walls and instantly turned a game of chess into a game of seduction.  Castiel figured they’d both won, and he was claiming his prize.

While Dean tried to arch up off the bed to meet the brutal snap of Cas’ hips, Dean stammered out, “C-Cas, Jesus, your cock is amazing,” it was more like a choked, punctuated guttural noise than anything.  “Y-you are—”

Still, Dean ground his teeth and Castiel watched him with interest, elated that he was fighting _so hard_ to say something when he should be basking in the moment.  It was crystal clear on the hunter's face and the pathetic attempts with his body—Dean was utterly useless when he tried to fight back and that was exactly how Castiel wanted him.  He could barely see straight, from where Castiel was watching him, and the warlock didn’t understand why he didn’t just relax and enjoy the ride.

He didn’t slow down the pace, although he made sure that instead of brushing Dean’s prostate, he made it a target.  When another gasping moan escaped Dean’s chest, Castiel couldn’t help but lean forward, nipping his earlobe and divulging, “No matter how amazing my cock feels, I can promise your tight, hungry body is in a league of its own.”  

Castiel licked the sweat beading up along Dean’s neck and asked, “Do you want it?  Are you greedy for my cum, too?” because he was close.  And he prayed the answer was yes, because just the concept of filling the hunter?  That was enough for him to get off, right then and there.

Dean’s body quaked, but now that Cas was within reach, Dean grabbed two handfuls of his hair and snarled, “I t-told you to kiss me, you asshole!” and within the same breath said, “fuck yes, cum inside me,” before their lips collided.

Whatever caused the shake in Dean’s body traveled right over to Castiel’s, because a tremor shot through his spine and he kissed the hunter for all he was worth.  This connection, his power, it shot between their bodies on a loop and it pulled them down deeper and closer than before; the results… both stunning and shocking.  Not only had no one been able to break down the wall, no one had ever been capable of using words, of handling this _bond_ , and pulling the rug out from underneath Castiel’s feet.

Yet, Dean had.  The man was unfathomable, and as Cas cradled his cheeks, he kissed Dean with everything he had—lust, longing, passion—and tried to reciprocate each of the emotions Dean was throwing right back.  Things were on an enchanted level, and he was so close to the edge.  He could feel in Dean’s aura, his energy field, that he was too.

So he didn’t slow down, he kicked it up by manhandling Dean’s legs over his shoulders, bending him in half and earning a surprised yelp.  But then, with their bodies connected on even _more_ surfaces with the way Castiel was practically leaking magic, it took but a few moments for Dean to shout out and cover both their bodies in cum.

Except, Dean’s shout lasted longer, and it was surprised, the ecstasy continued on and on long after his release, and when Castiel spilled inside his body? _Another_ wave of pleasure took control.  He was grappling for the warlock, his voice hoarse and ragged from the sensory overload.  Castiel cradled him through the last waves of his own orgasm, kissing him deeply, affectionately, because the hunter seemed to be at odds.

Maybe it was more like shell-shocked, as Castiel laid them down and pulled out of Dean, washing a hand over them both—a warm glow cleansing them.  He hoped, a small voice in his head hoped, that Dean would be thoroughly exhausted—at least enough to stay.  After all, he _was_ passing through town.  Cas didn’t know the next time he’d see him, _if_ he’d see him, so he wanted to make things as easy, as relaxed, as possible.

As time continued to wear on, a frown naturally formed on Castiel’s face.  

Even though they’d rearranged, Dean was on his chest and he seemed to have calm down, he hadn’t said a single word yet.

Did he regret his choice?  Was he remembering ‘how much he hated witches?’  Was he planning out the best way to leave?  To escape?  Was he worried about offending Castiel, not like he owed him much of anything in the first place, but still…

Castiel made the executive decision.  “Dean.  Are you… alright?  Did you not enjoy yourself or—”

“No, no, no, Cas, oh God, no!” Dean sat up, but winced and laid back down, this time on Castiel’s level so they could talk.  “I think ’m tryin’ to process.  Take it all in because... _wow_.  Just wow.”

The grimace on the warlock’s face still hadn’t wavered, and he voiced his concerns with, “I… don’t quite know how to take that, I’m afraid.”

Quicker than quick, Dean both scooted closer and he traced his fingertips along Castiel’s arm with a devilish grin.  “It’s a good thing.  A _helluva_ good thing.  But I gotta know.  Did you use magic to…?”  He gave Castiel a significant look, and in return he received a furrowed brow.  “You know.  Because _that_ orgasm?  Well, everything.  It was uh, out of this world.  And then, I felt like I came _again_ when you did so…”

“Oh!”  Understanding lit up in Cas’ eyes and he laughed a bit, “I’m afraid I cannot help it.  Light magic, witchcraft, it comes from the Earth.  In other practices, old rituals like sacrifices, offering and favors to Gods—those who they draw their craft from, it happens on a sacred ground whichis glorified Earth.Well… in some cases that's still are a way of life, some Pagans practice those ceremonies, it’s alive and well.  And… sexual intercourse is another one of the ways that connects us with the Earth.  The energy, the… it’s a long, drawn out and probably boring explanation."  He sighed heavily once he realized he was rambling about things Dean didn't care about, and needed to wrap this up!  "What I'm trying to say, is it's in my magic bloodline, my lineage, and I can’t help it.  I apologize if it was overwhelming.  If it‘s any consolation, I did attempt to hold back a bit.”  He pursed his lips together because in truth?  He couldn’t have controlled it if he wanted to.  
  
And he didn’t want to.

Dean flashed that wide smile Castiel couldn’t help but be drawn to and instantly quipped, “Overwhelming in an _awesome_ way.  And that was holding back?!”  He whistled and found his hand absently resting on Cas’ cheek.  “You really are all kinds of surprising, aren’t you?”

“As are you,” he countered easily, glad the topic was rather easily dismissed.  “It’s unfortunate you’re a hunter.  Although I’m happy you don’t wish to kill me anymore, I do feel a slight loss in the way I’ll probably never see you again.”

Castiel didn’t bother holding back his words nor his emotions.  After all, what was the point?  It was difficult to feel embarrassment in front of someone who wouldn’t call you out or tease you about the words in a future that didn't exist.  It didn’t matter if he was straightforward and forthcoming, because in this instance he may as well get it off his chest.

Dean watched him carefully and asked, “You’re not so hippie that you don’t have, like, a cellphone or something, right?”

So maybe _that_ caught the warlock off guard.  So much so that he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and asked, “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Drunk dial you?  What the hell do you think!” Dean sounded frustrated.  “I…wanna keep in contact.  Unless that’s some kinda problem for you.”

His eyes widened when he finally figured out what the hunter meant, then he couldn’t help but rev him up, just a bit.  “Allow me to process this.  You shoved your way into my house.  Accused me of practicing dark magic.  Threaten me with a gun armed with witch-killing bullets.  Proceed to seduce me—”

“Hey!  We were _equally_ seduced—”

“ _Proceeded_ to seduce me at gunpoint,” Castiel instantly cut him off, “I played right into your hand and we had sex.  And now you wish for…?  Companionship?  To notify me when you’re in town so I can drop everything—”

“Stop!  Right there!” Dean apparently did not appreciate his choice of words.

And that was good.  Because Castiel had deliberately baited him.    
  
If he was the man he’d hoped, he wouldn’t allow that portrayal of himself.  This was the reaction he was crossing his fingers for.  Even though Dean was having a bit of trouble putting together the choice phrases and he was blushing so much that Castiel could see it in the moonlit room.

“I-It’s _not_ like that, okay?”  Dean began, actions speaking louder than words as he pressed a sweet kiss to Cas’ lips (which he hadn’t been expecting) and rested their foreheads together.  “Yeah, yeah, I _know_ I flew in here like a psycho, but everything was going wrong and I needed to take out my anger on something.  I told you, we’ve always had bad track records with witches.  And, uh, warlocks.  And really, you… just seemed too good to be true, Cas.”

He remained silent, just feeling Dean’s touch, his warmth, as he continued.

“I really didn’t come here to fall into bed with you.  I was just a loose cannon, I wasn’t thinking and I had to get away from my brother.  So I came here.  And then when I saw your reaction to the gun?  Ho-ly fuck, man.  Dammit, you were sexy.  Then, you got even sexier, and it kept amplifying until I didn’t know which way was up.”  With a cluck of his tongue, Dean tangled their legs together.  “You’re one of a kind.  You’re smart, you really, really are a good witc— _warlock_ , you’re gorgeous and, sue me, I don’t wanna let this go.  Unless you do, which is totally fine, I get it, I really _am_ a dick and I never should—”

“Dean.”  Castiel interrupted him, putting a bit of space between them so he could look into his worried eyes.

With a nervous clearing of his throat, Dean’s gaze wandered and flickered down to his lips when he asked, “Yeah, Cas?”

“I’d love to stay in contact, I enjoy you very much.  I’ll give you my number on one condition.”

That perked the hunter right up, like a second wind rushed through him and he nodded his headed so quickly, it was likely to fall off.  “Yeah, okay, what is it?”

Castiel beamed genuinely and said, “Spend the night.”

That smile reflected back on Dean’s face and he didn’t miss a beat, going as far to say, “I’d love to.”

“Wonderful,” Cas closed the distance once more and kissed him with something a bit more fierce.  When he pulled away he said in his gravelly tone, “Also, I’d like to revisit the role-play we engaged in tonight.”

Surprised, Dean chuckled, “Oh yeah?  You trust me not to send a bullet flying on accident?”

“It’s part of the fun,” Castiel cuffed him under the chin, nothing but trouble in his tone, “I quite liked it.  As I said, I’ve never been powerless before.  The feeling of vulnerability is almost alluring.  Especially, when _you’re_ the source that’s taking away my advantages.  Mm, you’re intoxicating, Dean.  I’ve already lowered my guard for you, I could see it continuing in the future.”

“Oh yeah?”  He didn’t sound nervous or off-put by the mention of a future, instead he sounded excited, and began kissing Castiel with more intent.  “I’m gonna have to do some more research.  See what other things can render a warlock temporarily powerless… maybe for just long enough for me to ride you next time.”

Those words drew a surprise moan from Castiel’s mouth, and he warned the hunter, “You’re playing with fire, Dean,” and rolled over to lay on top of him.  “Do you want a good night's sleep?  Or are you trying to cause trouble and get me riled up again?  You cannot have both.”

After thinking for a moment, the only thing Dean could come up with was “I want you…” pitched in a deliberately filthy tone.

Castiel couldn’t muffle the growl, he didn’t have to hold back or put on a show, now that Dean had borne witness to every side of him.  Although, he did have to tell him, “Just remember I warned you,” before their lips and bodies collided for the second time that night, and Dean was rendered completely blissed-out and unable to move.  But that was okay.

As he told Castiel, that was how Dean managed to get over his prejudice against witches (and warlocks).  Even though they both knew it was a lie, and Cas was the exception, they pretended there had been a giant leap for magic-practitioners now getting the benefit of the doubt.  Oh well.  

They had Sam for that good versus bad shades of grey when it came to magic (now Dean had Cas, who was a surprisingly new addition to his life) and was told randomly from an aura reading that Sam shone brightly in vibrant colors.  Maybe compared to the dark and dingy life on the road they dealt with day after day.  Everything worked out, because Castiel could actually assist them with supernatural lore as well as spell work if they needed a reference that was a little more…intensive than what Bobby had in his library.  After all, he had lore books, but his grimoire collection was lacking.

Who knew Castiel would fall for a hunter with passive-aggressive anger issues who loved to submit, yet wouldn't stop mouthing off?  Who knew Dean would fall for a warlock with a danger fetish?  Somehow, it happened, even though it _was_ an odd happily ever after.


End file.
